


Spies

by threecee



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threecee/pseuds/threecee
Summary: Living across the street from Del Floria's tailor shop.





	Spies

The small, white-haired woman watched unseen from an upstairs apartment across the street from Del Floria’s tailor shop. She was far too skilled an observer to let the net curtains twitch noticeably.

“Henry, he’s back.”

“Who’s back, hon,” asked the sprightly old man in the thick glasses.

“That good-looking man who drives the black convertible with the red interior. One of those men who spends all day in the tailor shop every day for a while and then disappears for a few days or weeks. This time he was gone for twelve days and now he has his left arm in a sling. His blond friend is with him and, oh my, his face is all bruised and he’s walking with a cane.”

“Maybe they were in an accident.”

“The car looks fine. Besides they can’t be having accidents all the time. Not even in New York.”

“Maybe the tailor shop is really a school for bad drivers. I went over there and talked to the tailor about gambling last week and he didn’t show any interest, so I don’t think he’s running a game in the back room. In fact, I couldn’t even see that there is a back room.”

“It has to be some kind of racket. Nobody spends that much time in a tailor shop. And they never bring any suits in to be pressed.”

“Maybe they’re carrying drugs. If Prohibition were still in effect, I’d say it was a bootlegging operation, but these days it would have to be drugs.”

“I don’t think the blond man is a drug pusher. He’s too polite. Last month when you had that bad cold and I went to the store for Vicks and Kleenex, I slipped on an icy patch just as the blond was coming out of the shop. Anyway, he caught me. He’s really strong for someone so skinny. Then he picked up my bag and handed it back to me. When I thanked him, he told me it was nothing in a lovely British accent. Then I explained about you having a cold and he said he is subject to colds too. I asked about his accent and he said he’d studied at Cambridge in England. He excused himself and hurried off without telling me what subject he’d studied though.”

“Where is my brown suit? It could stand dry cleaning.”

*****  
“You were gone a long time, dear, is everything all right?”

“Fine, but now I’m sure there is a back room behind the dressing rooms. I was having a nice talk with Sal Del Floria, the owner. He used to have a shop on Steinway in Queens, but his wife is from Tribecca. Anyway, the dark-haired guy with the mole on his cheek suddenly popped out of the dressing room and through the front door. 

“He was just getting in his car when I left, so I stopped and asked him about the suits and prices, like I thought he was in there getting fitted. He answered pleasantly enough. Seems like a nice guy. Said he hurt his arm water skiing in Florida. No tan though.

“But this is the good part, there was no one else in the shop, but as we were talking the blond guy came out of there. The first guy turned to help him into the car and his coat fell open. He has a gun in a shoulder holster! The blond said ‘Napoleon’ like he was warning him I’d seen too much, so I got out of there fast.” 

“Oh, sweetheart! He could have shot you!”

“Don’t worry, kid, they wouldn’t shoot me. They seem like G-men of some kind. Remember when the FBI was watching Jimmy the Peanut from the apartment next to ours back in Brooklyn?” 

“John and Ernie? They were such nice men! Ernie’s last Christmas card had a photo of his new baby. They are calling her Linda. A shame John isn’t married yet. 

“You remember how they really enjoyed my homemade vegetable soup. I wonder if that would work here?”

“Harder to welcome new neighbors if they keep hiding behind the tailor shop. Maybe if I drop in for a chat tomorrow just before they usually arrive...”

“Yes, I could make a batch of muffins for you to take as a thank you for doing a rush job on your suit. Then you could offer muffins to Napoleon and the blond man too and keep them in conversation a little...”

The scheming continued. They were old hands at gathering information on their neighborhood.


End file.
